


How to save a life

by mikeginsanity (blahblahwahwah)



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Ficlet, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post Season 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-09-23 18:13:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9670307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blahblahwahwah/pseuds/mikeginsanity
Summary: Drablets. Ficlets. Headcanons.1) Ginny is grumpy. No one knows what to do.2) Mike is shattered. No one knows what to do.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike comforts Ginny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based off a cristina/burke scene in grey's anatomy season 1

It’s not that people _want_ to avoid seeing Ginny at the hospital.

Everyone comes to visit. Few make it past the door to her room. Everyone keeps an arm’s length, treat her with kid gloves – try to avoid talking about baseball when that’s all she’ll talk about – and if they try to change the subject, they’re sent out of the room with an earful of spite.

She’s fuming, sullen, snipey. Ten different levels of angry, hurt and scared. She starts out as a polite, cooperative, well-mannered patient – but by the end of the week she’ll growl and hiss at anyone who tries to touch her. Bites the doctors heads off, makes the nurses cry.

Evelyn starts off tough love but even her hardass-Mom routine can’t hold that long. It gets so bad by the end of the week that she’s walking on egg shells around Ginny and tries her best not to irk her.

Blip just doesn’t know how to deal with her like that. He just looks on helplessly and silently tolerates Ginny’s bitter rants.

Al starts with compassion, moves to snapping right back at her because he’s seen this before. Knows that tough love is what works – even though his heart breaks for her inside. That leads to angry, silent tears – so he gives up.

She eventually turns catatonic and refuses to talk -  to anyone. Oscar, doctors, nurses, her teammates.

Noah tries to see her, gets thrown out of her room and her life at the same time.

It’s rough on Ginny, everyone gets that. Her arm is in a sling, no one knows how long recovery will be, her brother took off, Amelia is AWOL – and it takes only five seconds of being in the room with her and her Mom to sniff out the latent Mommy issues.

And it’s clear that she’s not comfortable with Janet – even as a caretaker.

Janet tries to be patient; she’s seen the bitterness and heartbreak of this type of fear and loss before. She’s lived through it with Ginny’s father. She doesn’t get fazed by Ginny’s tantrums, sour eyerolls and caustic remarks. She knows her daughter, she understands how hard it is. She cannot find it in herself to hold a grudge against a wounded animal unable to cope with the prospect of losing everything she held dear.

What frustrates her is that Ginny won’t let anyone touch her. What frustrates her that Ginny hasn’t slept a wink in seven days. What frustrates her is that Ginny isn't even crying any more. She just sits there and stares. 

And there’s really nothing anyone can do about it.

And then Mike comes by.

It’s that day when Ginny’s screamed and blasted every human who tried to come near her. She’s snarling at the TV, kicks off the blankets when someone tries to arrange it, even though she’s clearly shivering from the cold, wearing nothing but that flimsy hospital gown that offers a shabby coverage.

Ginny stares blankly at Mike as soon as he enters, then refuses to acknowledge him after. Janet doesn’t miss the heartbroken expression on the Captain’s face.  

He stays close to the door, backpack slung on his shoulder taking everything in. The yawning gap between Ginny and everything and everyone else in the room. The distance between her bed and her Mom's chair. The moat of blankets, and Ginny herself, in her island of grief and pain.

He drops his backpack to the ground. Walks towards her bed.

“Don’t go near her.” Janet warns. “She’ll…”

Mike crosses the distance anyway. Ginny looks up at him – her eyes big and wide.

He pinches the blankets.

“Don’t touch that…” Janet warns again. “She’ll…”

Mike tugs it up over Ginny’s lean frame loosely. Ginny keeps looking at him – her eyes getting wet.

Mike sits on the bed, in the barely-there space between Ginny’s body and the edge.

“Don’t…” Janet warns. “She’ll…”

Ginny starts to sniffle.

“She doesn’t want anyone touching her.” Janet points out weakly.

Mike swats the side of her daughter’s thigh. Ginny scoots over. Janet’s mouth drops as the larger man climbs into bed with Ginny. He pulls his legs into the bed, and they both adjust until Ginny silently curls into him, dropping her curly head against his chest, her chin tucked over his bicep, his beard resting on her crown.

Janet’s heart twitches with emotion when he squeezes his eyes shut. And in synchrony, both captain and rookie exhale– loudly. Like they've been holding on to that breath for weeks - maybe months. 

Ginny’s body starts to tremble, her sobs get louder.  Mike doesn’t appear self-conscious or rattled by Janet’s presence. He nods at Ginny’s mother but neither smiles nor speaks.  He pats Ginny's hair, tucks the sheets around her and reclines fully into the bed. He pulls her close and she weeps like that, wrapped in his arms. He doesn’t budge, even when she falls asleep.

Al Luongo comes by – stops cold at the sight, just smiles sadly at Mike and leaves silently. Blip and Evelyn come by, they don't react, they only hand Janet a coffee, leaving one for Mike by the side-stand and leave silently looking more relieved than curious. The nurses step in and walk out instantly. The doctors come on rounds – they exchanged glances of relief and exit quietly.

If Mike is embarrassed about how compromising this appears – he doesn’t show it. He keeps soothing Ginny’s head and back and dozes off after a while, his nose buried in her curls.

Janet doesn’t take her eyes off the scene. She stays still – a spectator to the unspoken, deep connection between those two. She eventually leaves the room to get something to eat.

She doesn’t want to read in too much to it – whatever _it_ is. But she knows one thing: two thousand six hundred odd miles away from Tarboro, but her daughter’s is right at home - with him. With Mike Lawson.

 

-x-


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on this:
> 
> **anonymous  asked:** I love your "how to save a life" ficlet so much. I tear up every time I read it. Would you do any other small additions to it??
> 
> Inspiration scene was from Little Miss Sunshine after the big brother's meltdown.
> 
> Inspirational gifset: [This beautiful one by mindykahling](http://mindykahling.tumblr.com/post/158944890630/insp)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The closest person Mike has to a real parent is Al - so I figured it was time do one from his POV. I'm sure this would never happen in canon or even in a RL situation.  
> Warning: character death  
> Scene is from Al's POV.

Jackie Lawson passed away twelve minutes past midnight in the morning from decompensated liver cirrhosis brought on by a long standing hepatitis C infection.

They were playing the last game against the Dodgers at LA that morning. Whenever Al thought back to the fateful day, he would never understand why Mike chose to show up to work.

 

_A walking corpse._

It was the first thing that crossed his mind when he saw Mike enter the visitor clubhouse early that morning.

Haggard, bloodshot eyes, emotionless voice.

“Mike, I’m so sorry for your loss.” Al condoled when Mike told him.

Mike replied with a nod and a calm request to keep things quiet till they got back to San Diego, and a calmer request to let him play.

The last time that Al saw Mike being this catatonic was the day after he found out about Rachel’s affair. They were in LA that day as well, playing the _Dodgers_.  Though withdrawn, and dejected, Mike had performed well at the game and they won that day.

Al would argue that his judgement was clouded by past experience rather than personal leniency towards the Captain of the _Padres_ when he acquiesced to Mike’s request.

A decision he would later regret.

 

As the game started, Mike became increasingly cagey and touchy.

It was common knowledge that Mike was peculiarly snippy when he didn’t catch. As a rule the players treated him with kid gloves on such days, especially when Baker and Duarte were paired together. Al was always worried about the seething jealousy and resentment he detected in Lawson towards Duarte, particularly where Baker was concerned. Still, even in the _foulest_ of moods, on the _worst_ of days, Mike never, _never_ provoked a fight.

Not _once_ in all the time Al’s known him.

Things flipped from indirect aggression to full blown mayhem at the bottom of the third.

Mike yelled at a helpless batboy for no reason. In hindsight, was probably the tip off for the others, because Mike was always polite and cordial towards the auxiliary staff. He treated them with more dignity than half the major leaguers did even when they screwed up deliberately.  

Next, he had a bad day at bat. He hit a single, only to be tagged out at second while Sanders was tagged out at third. He berated Blip on the way back to the dugout, even went a step further to call Sanders lazy and incompetent. Sanders, a decent man and a good friend, reacted better than Al would in the situation. He firmed his lips in a thin line, kept his cool, stalked off to the far end of the dugout, fuming silently.

Al mistakenly assumed that Mike was just letting out some steam, but then things got really ugly when Ginny and Livan returned to the dugout after a particularly lousy fourth inning. He roared at Duarte for making all the wrong calls.  

And, _still_ \- it was fine.

On the day of her starts, by habit, Baker maintained an actively silent zone.  She seldom looked at or spoke to anyone before the game. 

That morning, Al had observed that her face wasn’t quiet, even if she was. Her eyebrows were crossed, her mouth kept twisting apprehensively and her anxious eyes followed Mike around like a hawk.

She had known something was wrong.

It had been long apparent to Al that if there was anyone that Lawson was comfortable expressing emotions to, it was the girl. Even when he was avoiding her, he was subconsciously communicating to her. She was extraordinarily receptive when it came to him, and over the past two seasons superseded Sanders as the person with a handle on his temper.

Al assumed that was why Baker channelled caution towards the Duarte. Her eyes held an unspoken warning: "Whatever you do, keep your mouth shut." And thankfully, if there's one person he'll listen to, it's Ginny. So, the young catcher responded with a cocky smirk, despite the vengeful expression in his eyes.

And, _still_ \- it was fine.

And then, Mike turned on Baker without provocation with open, unmasked, unbridled rage.

He called her a weak pitcher and an embarrassment to the game. He called her a gimmick and a mockery of a ballplayer. The dugout was stunned. The players remained gaping, unsure of what to do. None of them had seen their Captain openly degrading a player this way.

And, Ginny was no ordinary player. She was sacred - _to Mike_. No one criticized her publicly and got away - _from Mike._

She stayed stoically silent, while Mike yelled and yelled, _and yelled_ at her – in plain view of the dugout cam.

If Baker had retaliated vocally (as she usually did), Al thinks it would have been easier. If she openly cried (which she never would), he thinks it would have stirred the boys into action faster. But, Ginny just took it, quietly – tears glistening in her eyes as Mike continually bellowed.

For an instant, Al wondered if Mike had told her about his mother’s death. He wondered if that was why she held her tongue. But, when her quizzical and accusing gaze shifted to Al - expecting him to step in, as he rightly should - Al knew she was clueless as the others.

It was unforgivable and unutterable – the other things he said. And he just wouldn’t stop. 

Al averted his eyes. Stupefied and conflicted.

On every level, he knew that if Mike hadn’t told him the news that morning he probably would have rebuked him, and had him thrown out for the dugout, maybe even out of the ballclub for his behaviour.

But Al – couldn’t move. He stood there, as helplessness as the day they told him that Anna’s cancer had progressed beyond hope

It was Buck, who had to step up in his place to intervene. Evers, Sanders and Duarte started chastising Mike. Sonny got barked at. Blip almost got punched. Livan brought in his arrogance and all his Cuban fury, leading to a scuffle of the catchers.

All this – while the camera was still directed at them.

And then Baker elbowed her way into the human tug of war.

“Time out! All of you!” Ginny roared in a voice that reminded him of his Anna went the kids were getting rowdy.

It ended the fight.

She scowled at Duarte till he backed away, eyeing Mike and her with a mix of protectiveness and rage. Then she spun around and flamed a stern glare at her Captain. To Al’s utter surprise, Mike’s livid face fell, he retreated into a corner of the bench at the far end of the dugout, his teammates cold-shouldering him with disgusted looks and underbreath grumbles.

Baker stood still for a few seconds, looking at Al with the same quizzical expression.

When Al lifted his shamed eyes to her, she allowed him to a momentary glimpse into the humiliation she felt. All he could do was meet her gaze, begging her forgiveness with his eyes.

How she understood, whatever she understood, he’d never know. He felt as useless to Mike, to Ginny and the team - as he did when his proud, stubborn and brave wife looked him in the eye and told him it was time for him to let go.

Contrary to popular belief, Al knows a lot about the power of women. His best friend for more than four decades happened to be the mother of his children and the rock of his life. As the father of three girls, he would certify that women inherently possessed the ability to commiserate.

Baker, Al knew – was no different. Especially, when it came to her friends.

 

There are moments in a man’s life where he must acknowledge a divine hand in certain actions.

Ginny Baker closed her pretty brown eyes and took in a loud, deep breath. She exhaled it in a low whistle. She stuck her chin out, squared her shoulders, turned her face turned towards the high-resolution, high-definition cameras still aimed at the dugout, marched towards Mike and took a seat next to him.

When Al looked up at the image in the jumbotron, Baker’s tiny body was a pithy cover compared to Mike’s bulk. And yet, when she flashed that trademark, dimpled grin, it seemed to flood the entire screen – like a shield of dazzling light that overpowered the dismal the backdrop of the dugout. There was nowhere else to look but at her white teeth, her spread lips and that forced cheerfulness in her shining eyes.

With that one smile, Ginny Baker singlehandedly saved the team’s face and in all probability, she saved Al’s job.

She kept smiling, with an occasional wink until the cameraman got bored and panned away towards the field.

It was only then that she let out an audible sigh of air and dropped her face in her hands. Al expected her to jump up and walk away from Mike, instead she pushed her thigh apart, glued it to the knee of the hunched bearded wounded animal that sat beside her, while he stared a hole into the ground between his cleats.

Al breathed a sigh of relief that Mike didn’t pull away.

 

 

They lost.

The post-game press was a massacre. Everyone blamed Al for losing control of the ballclub. Al’s ears were aching by the time everyone in the front office was done yelling at him. As expected, a heated debate started on whether Mike’s behaviour with Ginny qualified as bullying or hazing or sexual harassment. Al would thank whoever was looking out for him (Anna) that Baker’s bossy agent hadn’t come to LA on that trip to add fuel to the fire.

Mike went back to being aloof and unresponsive while the reporters accosted him in the clubhouse and attacked him in the post-game press. His litany of ‘no comment’ sounded mechanical.

Baker refused to meet the press. The girl was holding on to her stoic exterior by a thread and thankfully no one pestered her.

The bus was a minefield of tension. Mike trudged to the back and crawled into the corner. His teammates steered clear of him.

Baker took the front of the bus curling into the window seat. Al, who, always knew when his girls were gonna cry before they actually would, could tell from the way she inverted her lower lip that she wanted nothing more than to weep. But she wouldn’t. And, she didn’t. He wanted to tell her that no one would think less of her if she let it out.

Mike had demeaned her. However tough a person was, there’s no way any one – man or woman can come away from that unscathed.

But, Duarte was shooed away when he tried to take the seat next to her. She clearly wanted solitude and it was the least the others could afford her.

But everyone was still furious at Mike.

“It’s gonna get ugly.” Buck muttered prophetically.

Al hoped otherwise. San Diego couldn’t come any faster, and he hoped the team would consider forgiving their Captain after they learned the truth. He just hoped that they could all keep it together on the bus ride.

He even said a prayer to the effect.

And then somewhere in the middle of the road, Duarte lost it.

He stomped to the back of the bus, threw down the proverbial glove. “I don’t wanna judge.” He spat, his accent heavier than usual.

“Then don’t judge.” Mike’s emotionless voice floated all the way to the front of the bus.

The boys all rose, sensing trouble.

“You owe my pitcher an apology!” Duarte shouted.

Baker stuck her head up, clambering in her seat, hugging the backrest, her knees digging into the cushion.

Mike stayed silent.

Sanders, who until then was a man who preferentially stayed away from brawls, arose.

“What the hell was that about Mike?” He hollered.

“Get back in your seats!” Al bellowed.

“Yeah and what the hell, Skip!” Sanders turned in Al’s direction down the aisle. “You just _let_ him treat her like dirt - on TV!” 

“Leave him alone!” Al barked, knowing that his censure was weak.

“Leave him alone?” Duarte growled. “ _Him_? He just bullied a player in front of the entire damn country!”

 _He didn’t just bully a player,_ Al wanted to correct Livan. _He bullied the first female player._

It was going to be nightmare and Al was feeling some degree of angina at the prospect of facing it. 

And then Robles – of all the people stepped in. Salvamini followed, Sonny, Dusty and the others went along. The bus driver kept glancing in the rear-view mirror with worry. Buck got up muttering and frustrated with having to break them up again.

The voices got louder and angrier.

But none of them belonged to Mike.

And Baker didn’t move from her spot. She kept glancing between the boys and Al. That hurt, confused look on Baker’s face made Al think of Natalie when Anna told the kids about the cancer.

Al groaned and rubbed his face. When he pulled his psoriatic palm off his eyes, Ginny was still staring at him. Expecting him to act. To do, or say – _something_.

“Enough! Enough! Enough!” Mike’s booming voice bellowed, sending a wave of silence throughout the bus.

“Stop the bus!” He shouted.

“Mike!” Al grunted, his joints (all of them) protested when he had to rise up.

“Stop the fucking bus!” He bellowed.

His cry was deafening – and the pain was apparent.

In retrospect, Al thinks the bus driver just reacted. He slammed his foot on the air-brake in the middle of the Pacific Coast Highway. They lurched forward, stumbling and cursing, everyone reaching for the closest thing to brace.

Mike shoved everyone past and marching down the aisle towards the driver’s seat. The driver inadvertently opened the door. He ran out. Al rushed after him all the way to the door of the bus, panicking at the sight of Mike, bolting across the road, clambering over the highway fence, bounding over the rocky, mountain side, stopping just short of the edge of the cliff that led straight into the open ocean in a sure plummet to death.

Ginny scrambled off the seat with a loud sob, rushing to Al’s side with wide, terrified eyes, covering her mouth with her palm.

Mike dropped to his knees on the rocky cliffside.

A brutal, anguished growl, so opaque with pain resounded throughout the creek, and it felt like the mountains shook with it. Another piercing cry followed it – impossibly louder, unimaginably more excruciating.

It reminded him of the screams that Anna would let rip whenever they tried to move her from the stretcher to the bed at the hospital - the dreadful proof of the cancer having seeped into her backbone eating away at her spine, rendering the even morphine pointless.

Al couldn’t take it anymore. He felt the wetness run down his cheeks.

It was too much. Mike’s pain, Ginny’s pain – the team’s pain. _Anna’s pain._

“Skip?” was all Ginny said, but her eyes were begging for an explanation, her husky voice laden with tears she would not shed.

“His mother died last night.” Al answered.

He spoke loud enough for the entire bus to hear, but it was only intended for Ginny. The only person Al _owed_ this revelation to.

“She was…” He didn’t know why he felt the responsibility to make Death seem more awful than it was. “She was all he had...growing up.” He added, nonetheless.

Ginny looked at a point beyond him, probably seeking a confirmation from Sanders. Al imagined Blip shook his head when a tear finally broke through Ginny’s enduring façade. She sobbed loudly, and stepped towards the exit

“He didn’t fail you…!” Al blurted at her when she was at the bottom step. “I failed you, Baker. I failed you all. I shouldn’t have let him play – but…”

_But what?_

What explanation could he give really? That he was thinking with his heart and not his head? That he permitted the loss of a major-league baseball game at the expense of the millions of dollars for the sake of indulging one his favorite players? 

Ginny doesn’t wait, she bounds out of the bus.

“It would’ve been worse if you didn’t let him play,” said Sanders behind him in a choked, voice.

 

Al waddled down the steps of the bus, wondering why a breach of confidence felt like a respite. Maybe it was because Ginny had safely hopped over the fence, faltering her way to Mike, undaunted by the narrowness of the cliffside or the death plunge that came after or the potential rockslides.

The boys filed out. Duarte was still looking angry, but the rest of them were either sheepish, grim or sympathetic. Sanders was expressionless. He accompanied Al as they crossed the road, even helped Al climb over the fence.

They perched over it while the boys lingered with Buck outside the bus.

Mike was sitting on the slippery cliffside a few feet away, crouched in a fetal posture hugging his troublesome knees. There was no sign that he was sobbing or crying.

He was just still.

Baker dropped on her bottom, right next to him. She pushed her body up against his side, so close that they might have been hermetically sealed - feet to folded knees, hips to hunched shoulders.  Mike’s larger body nudged into her and their sides fused against each other.

They exhaled, together. This long held breath that seemed like it was held forever. Al exhaled with them.

“Was it an accident or something?” Sanders mumbled beside him.

Al was surprised. He had assumed that Mike would have told Sanders about Jackie’s illness at least. But then again, Al remembered the look on Mike’s face when he told Al about Jackie’s liver failing.

It was guilt.

Al had long ago identified Jackie Lawson as a chaotic and self-consumed person who loved her son, but just enough. Not the qualities that suit a parent.

If Jackie would stoop to use a child, to con money from unsuspecting wellwishers, Al didn’t find it surprising that she wouldn’t hesitate to leech off his earnings as an adult, or use his fame to her advantage.  And, Mike being the sensitive, loyal, devoted son that he was, gave his mother a long rope, even if she kept hanging herself with it. He willingly paid off debt after irresponsible debt that Jackie incurred, turned a blind eye to her profligate lifestyle, indulged her every whim and spoiled her silly.

In Al’s opinion, Mike’s sense of duty and loyalty was always his greatest weakness when it came to the people he cared for.

Mike’s financial fists only began to clench when he accepted that Jackie would never get her act together as long as he was there to bail her out. Al remembered that his mother resorted to infantile outbursts and emotional blackmail. Al also remembered how easily it upset Mike, eventually forced him to dissociate with her emotionally. Nonetheless, he continued to provide for her with a more-than-sufficient stipend, he always kept tabs on her safety and health even when she petulantly refused to talk to him.

When she fell ill, Mike couldn’t physically look after her given his circumstances but he ensured she obtained the best care that money could provide.

Yet, Mike believed he failed her as a son, despite Al’s best attempts to reassure him otherwise.

 

After a long while, Baker slipped her arm around Mike, resting her palm on his back and leaning her head on his shoulder. That bushy curly ponytail flopped to a side. Mike’s head lifted slightly, the side of his head to tilted towards her, his beard interleaved with the wiry hair on her crown.

They stayed like that for a while.

The yellow sun turned orange and it bled into the bright blue expanse. Buck joined them, perching on the other side of Al.

No one said a word.

Al considered calling Rachel and letting her know about Jackie. Rachel was never one of Al’s favourite people even before she broke up with Mike but interestingly, the only thing that they agreed on was that Mike’s mother was a toxic influence. Maybe she would intercede on Mike’s behalf, keep the scathing media criticisms within an acceptable limit.

Somehow it seemed pointless at that stage.

 

 

Baker, slowly tilted her head, and Al could see the side of her face.

 _She’s such a beautiful girl,_ he thought, admiring the sharp features of her profile (– and no, he doesn’t think that’s the most interesting thing about her, but he would appreciate it just the same).

She tipped her forehead so that Mike's temple was pressed to her eyebrow, her pitching arm wound around the back of his neck, that screwballer machine she had for a hand, slipped forward and disappeared, all Al could see of her arm was a callused elbow.

Mike moved after a few seconds. His large brawny arm snaked from between them wrapping across the back of her midriff.

They stayed like that for a long time.

Al thought about Baker’s father as he heard _of_ him. From the news stories that were replayed, rewritten, redressed over and over with in various shades, and forms. He wondered how Ginny bore loss of someone so consequential that she wouldn’t be here in the major leagues had it not been for his will, his discipline, his belief and baskets of nectarines.

Then Al thought about Mike’s father as Mike described him. Several years ago, the night after his engagement party Mike told Al _the_ story over a pint of beer. Al remembered a young man with love and hope in his eyes, health and vigor in his knees, believing that his life seemed like the fruition of a pipe dream. He wondered how Mike suffered the existence of a man who would not acknowledge him as his own. A sperm donor at best, a spectral inspiration at his worst.

Then Al thought of Anna. His Anna; who wept for joy at Mike’s wedding and wept with sympathy when Al told her Mike’s marriage was on the rocks. Anna, who bound their children’s wounds and wiped their tears. Anna, who  _always_ knew what to do or say in a situation like this. Anna, who shouldered Al through the worst phases of his life, yet whose casket seemed unbearably heavy for Al to shoulder on his own.

He wondered how he lived on every day, without her.

 

The sky changed to a suffering purple, the sun dunked under the Pacific as though it could not withstand the sight of Mike’s grief and pain anymore.

Mike’s face turned towards Ginny, his forehead clinging to her forehead, his nose touching her nose.

Ginny’s eyes were open, but blinking rapidly as tears flowed freely. Mike’s eyes were squeezed shut, and Al could see a slow silvery trail glinting down his cheek, from eyelashes to beard.

It was too much proximity for an old-fashioned man like Al to consider decent between a man and a woman who were supposed to be co-workers. But, what did he know? He’d never claim to be the authority on what was appropriate and what’s not. Times had changed since he asked Anna out on their first date. Two years ago, he was the idiot that thought women had no place in professional hardball and here he was, unable to imagine Baseball without Ginny Baker.

Baker’s hand crept up over Mike’s head. She twisted her body towards Mike. His face automatically dipped into her shoulder – her pitching shoulder.

Al thought she seemed small and delicate compared to the larger Mike. Her shoulder was like a tiny hammock, barely big enough to cradle Mike's massive head. And yet Mike’s face disappeared without the slightest effort. Baker’s face tipped, she propped her cheek on the top of his head, her fingers petting his hair.

They stayed that way for a shorter time than before.

Al could hear the loud sniffing sound that came before Mike lifted his head up. Baker’s head gave way from a lack of support. Mike caught her chin just before it flopped down.

Irrational as the thought was, Al held his breath for a smooch. He threw an awkward glance at Buck. Buck had his eyes held wide, like he was worried about the same thing. He glanced at Blip and Blip was looking down at his feet, as though he was terrified to look. Inappropriate as their behaviour might be, no one seemed inclined to interrupt it.

And somehow, it seemed odd and incomplete that Mike didn’t kiss her on the lips. 

Instead, the side of Ginny’s forehead disappeared under Mike’s beard. He pressed a long kiss on her temple, just above her eyebrow. She used her free hand to thumb off his tears. They pulled back, scrambled to their feet, slowly nodding at each other.

Mike’s nod - a plea for forgiveness, Ginny’s nod - the granting.

Why the idea came to mind in the first place, Al had no clue. Maybe he was from a different time, a different world -  maybe he was just a hopeless romantic and he could not think of two people more deserving of love, who ought to find love - in each other.

Mike grabbed Ginny’s arm, stabilizing her when she wobbled. He pulled her away from the unsteady slope. A collective gasping sound came from behind, echoing Al’s sentiment. Al craned his neck around to find that all the boys had joined them, though they stayed behind the fence. All of them looked relieved that the career and life of the first female pitcher of the major leagues did not end in an accidental free fall into the chasm of sure death.

Mike – seemed unconcerned with appearances. His face was ashy, his eyes, sunken, and his aura, devoid of energy. His eyes were fixed on the dodgy, perilous ground while he deftly and protectively manoeuvred Baker towards the fence.

Baker had her face set in flint, a defiant look in her eyes thrown at Al, Blip and Buck and the men gathered behind the legal side of the fence – she was daring them to question the nature of her relationship with Mike.

No one did.

Ginny hopped over the fence like a little joey, after Mike almost toppled over, grunting and groaning, swinging his legs artlessly. Sanders clapped Mike’s back, kept his arm comfortingly around him and led him to the bus. Duarte stepped forward to receive Baker and they sauntered off, giggling and chuckling as though the last ten hours was nothing but a bad dream.

The boys quietly filed back into the bus. Mike dropped silently into seat that Baker had previously occupied in the front. Baker sank into the aisle seat beside him.

She swatted and elbowed Duarte and Sanders, giggling and chuckling when they tried to pull her hair from the seat behind her. Lawson rolled his eyes at them like a long-suffering parent and then slumped against the window in a few minutes. Baker, shifted closer to Mike after he dozed off.

Al felt a burst of pride for his team, one that he would never be able to explain.

They reached home – maybe hour and a half later than expected but without incident. 

 

Later, Al would learn that Mike got the call from Jackie’s caregiver around half-past midnight. That he was up all night. That he had instructed the facility where she spent the past year to send her body to a specific moratorium in Imperial Beach. That Mike had called his mother’s priest, the undertaker, and his agent. That he made all the funeral arrangements on the phone before he arrived at the Dodgers stadium.

_“What happens in the Padres dugout, stays in the Padres dugout. And it’s nobody’s business but ours.”_

That’s how Baker handled the press in the aftermath. When pestered about what the fight was about, she kept coming up with frivolous answers until the pressed got tired of hounding her.

 

 

Jackie Lawson’s funeral is attended by a lot of prominent figures in baseball and sport. Mike gives a brief eulogy about her, emphasizing on the selfless, sacrificing and supporting mother she was without whom he could not have achieved his dream of playing baseball.

Al Luongo knows she was none of those things. He knows because he was married to a selfless, sacrificing, supporting woman and Jackie Lawson couldn't begin to compare. But, he knows there’s a sweet little boy inside Mike who will always love Jackie for what she could be and accepted her as she was.

At the end of the funeral Al observes Ginny as she goes to Mike and hugs him. Mike wraps his arms around her. He’s the bigger party in that exchange, almost double her size and if he puts effort into it, his frame might even swallow her whole – and yet it seems like Ginny’s the one surrounding him, the one protecting him, the one who's engulfing him in that irresistible inner light she possesses.

They stay in that embrace, looking at the casket, wearing identical dismal expressions as it disappears six feet under.

Then one of them (Al's not sure who) says something, and both burst into chuckles. Baker at least has the decency to look ashamed laughing at a funeral, but Mike flashes her his Ginny smile. Not his restrained cocky, smug smile. But that unreserved, ear to ear, wide mouthed grin that Al’s been noticing over the past two seasons.

A smile that only Baker evokes.

She pushes him off and he sobers up stepping away – but a goofy smirk lingers on his face when they walk towards the cars.

 

Anna always said that a strong tough man, doesn’t need a gentling touch as much as he needs love that is given more than is received, with forgiveness that’s all-encompassing and unconditional. Above all he needs a strong tough woman, who’s ready to fight for him even if it means fighting against herself.

And, he’ll do the same for her.

If the spark simmering beneath Ginny and Mike’s close bond ever fans into a flame, they’ll have a wildfire before they know it. There’s far too many publicity related complications, at least five fraternization policy infractions that Al can think of off the top of his balding head. And then there's the fact that the future of platonic male-female relationships might come under scrutiny.

Al for one, is too old to care.

Anna was right. A strong tough man, needs the love of a strong tough woman.

And Mike Lawson just might have found that in Ginny Baker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally can't stop thinking about Al and his wife.  
> Somehow this was supposed to be like three pages and sort of got away from me?  
> I would greatly appreciate a review because angst and weeps r not my thing.


End file.
